


destined to explode

by tiffanyblws



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M, but what's new there?, gratuitous cursing, ray is a helpless loser in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5450969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiffanyblws/pseuds/tiffanyblws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He needs to make Brad think, give him time to adjust to Ray’s giant fucking ball of pent up emotions that’s looking more like a cartoon bomb everyday and whose fuse is getting shorter as it gets larger. Ray has plenty of time to think about these things, and what the fuck is up with that, anyway? There’s not supposed to be this much downtime in war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i knew this was hard to hold

Ray doesn’t know exactly when he started falling in love with Brad. It could’ve been in BRC, or Afghanistan, or on libo in Australia. Ray personally thinks it was probably the first time Brad had referred to him as “my RTO.” Or, well, that’s when he knew he was in love with Brad, so he had to have taken the actual fall earlier, and it’s weird, he thinks, that the fall didn’t kill him because he’s so fucking sure his heart may explode with how much he fucking loves Brad. And Brad doesn’t have a fucking clue, at least, Ray doesn’t think he does, anyway.

The thing about being in love with your team leader, though, is that you can’t fucking tell him because if he’s not into you, you’ve just fucked up team dynamics and you'll probably be transferred or discharged and that’s just so fucking awkward either way and Ray’s not up to dealing with that particular level of bullshit, fuck you very much. The other thing is that, if your team leader is into it, you still can’t do anything because of fucking DADT. And there’s another thing: Brad’s a lifer, as in the Corps is his fucking career and Ray doesn’t stand a fucking snowball's chance in hell compared to that. Brad would never choose a sad whiskey tango fuckup over the rest of his fucking life.

So, Ray talks shit--loud, obnoxious shit that doesn’t mean a damn thing--just to fill the silence and cover the sound his heart makes when Brad smiles at him. Poe compared a heartbeat to the sound a watch makes when enveloped in cotton, but fuck that noise, Ray’s heart sounds like mortar blasts set off with sporadic machine gun fire as a background. But, then again, that could just be all the bullshit they’re rolling through, too. It’s hard to tell some days.

Brad knows Ray better than anyone, but at the same time it’s like he doesn’t know him at all. Like, how the fuck does Brad not understand that Ray’s trying so goddamn hard to tell him how he feels in the only way he can in theater. It’s like he’s the dumbest smart person Ray knows. So, Ray makes up his mind about two things: 1.) he’s getting out of the Corps after this, and, 2.) Brad will know how he feels by the end of this tour if it fucking kills Ray. Ray’s assured of this, as the LT would say.

For step one of his plan, Ray decides to sing a song, something Brad knows, something Brad can join in on, just so he can see that beautiful, secret smile that means Brad’s actually enjoying himself and not worrying about how they could all fucking die at any second. Ray fucking _loves_ that smile, loves it even more when he’s the one who put it there. Hell, Ray loves everything about Brad and he doesn’t give a fucking rats ass how sappy he sounds.

He’s all but screaming the chorus, ignoring anyone who isn’t Brad, even though he knows Reporter’s joined in and Trombley keeps mumbling to himself instead of singing, fucking psycho, hell, even Walt’s humming along.

Given that Ray’s not a big Iron Maiden fan, he had thought about changing it to Air Supply, but that’s too obvious. He needs to make Brad think, give him time to adjust to Ray’s giant fucking ball of pent up emotions that’s looking more like a cartoon bomb everyday and whose fuse is getting shorter as it gets larger. Ray has plenty of time to think about these things, and what the fuck is up with that, anyway? There’s not supposed to be this much downtime in war.

  
Ray’s scraping the barrel with his next song choice. _Fuck_ , he thinks, _it’s not even a real love song_. But he knows all the words and the title sorta fits, or would if there were any fucking interstates in Buttfuck, Iraq. Point is, Brad is oblivious as fuck and Ray’s getting a little desperate thinking of songs that convey his deep emotional attraction to his team leader. And, ok, yeah, the line about “breathing is the hardest thing to do” hits a little close to home, because fuck yeah, holmes, Ray finds it extremely difficult to breathe around Brad sometimes.

Man, being in love sucked _ass_.

He almost keels over trying to think of another song he could sing, given that his knowledge of music is almost entirely based in country and there is no fuckin’ way Brad would let that shit fly. When his mind settles on the Blue Oyster Cult classic, he nearly explodes trying to keep his laughter in.

So the fuck what if Ray’s letting this shit go to his head. It’s war, what the fuck were you expecting? Plus, there’s the added bonus of irony. Ray’s burnin’, he’s burnin’ for Brad, the fucking Iceman, holmes. By the time he’s finished singing to himself, he can’t contain his laughter anymore, which means he makes all these weird choking noises trying to keep from making himself obvious and Brad notices, of fucking course he does, he’s Brad, he notices everything.

“Ray, what the fuck is wrong with you? If you’ve been trying to snort Ripped Fuel again, I will throw what’s left of it out the fucking window and shoot you in your kneecaps. Both of them.”

Ray does laugh at this, so hard he’s gasping and he feels like a fucking madman. “Nah, holmes, nothing like that. And that threat was weak, even for you Bradley. What the fuck do I need my kneecaps for? All I do is chauffeur your lazy asses around all fucking day. Reminds me of this story a buddy of mine from back home told me once. See, we were drunk of our asses at the only good bar in town and……”

He talks for about ten minutes before Brad tells him to shut the fuck up, which means dear Bradley is worried for him. How sweet, but totally unnecessary at the moment. Ray’s gonna have to step up his game.


	2. Update and announcement

Hey guys! I'm probably gonna rewrite this, because it's sorta not what I want? I have a draft saved that I've been working on, and it's been kicking my ass. I should be able to start actively working on it in the near future, so be on the look-out. 

 

Thanks for the interest! I'll keep you all posted!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic and to be completely honest, I have no idea what this is, but there will probably be more of it.
> 
> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.


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